


A Little Bird

by redcandle17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:42:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1671713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcandle17/pseuds/redcandle17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa has a gift for Sandor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Bird

“I have a gift for you,” Sansa announced.

No one had given Sandor any gifts since his father had died over fifteen years ago. He was ashamed of how much he’d been looking forward to this ever since his little bird had asked when his name day was several moons ago. Though it would undoubtedly be something like a silk tunic he would never wear or a dagger too ornate to be useful, Sandor would treasure it. 

Sansa called for the maester, who scurried toward them carrying a small cloth-draped square. Sansa thanked him and took the object. “I believe it’s something you’ve wanted for a long time,” she told Sandor, giving him a smile that reminded him entirely too much of himself. She pulled the cloth away, revealing a bird in a cage. The bird was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, with bright green feathers that could only mean it had come from the Summer Isles. Sandor stared at it in surprise for a moment, then he threw back his head and laughed. The bird began to laugh too, causing him to laugh harder. 

“It talks, too, and sings,” Sansa said. 

It was all Sandor could do not to kiss her right there and then, servants about or no. She was no longer the scared little girl he’d known in King’s Landing and it pleased him greatly to think that he might have helped shape the woman she was now. He settled for stroking her cheek as he thanked her. 

“I’ve tried to teach it Florian and Jonquil, but it’s a willful little thing and only sings what it chooses.”

“He’s his own bird,” Sandor said, “Even in his cage.”

“You can let him out if you’d like. He likes to perch on people, but he’s _messy_ ,” Sansa said, with a look directed at the bird that she usually reserved for Arya, “And he likes to bite.”

“Have you given him a name?” Sandor asked. “I can hardly call you both little bird.”

“I thought you would want to name him yourself. Besides,” she frowned, “I’m not sure it’s a him. I shall have to ask the maester.”

The bird laughed again. Then it said, “Ser.”

Sandor glared at it then at Sansa. 

“I didn’t teach him that,” Sansa protested, edging away. “He already knew that word before he reached here.”

“Ser,” the bird screeched again, louder this time. 

“Perhaps that is his name,” Sansa said eagerly. “I had a wolf named Lady. Why shouldn’t a bird be named Ser?”

Sandor considered it. It would be amusing to keep a Ser in a cage. He grinned and yanked Sansa back to him, deciding to ignore the servants and properly thank her for her gift.


End file.
